Building on the Past

Potentially unpopular opinion; I would wipe the phrase 'New Year, New Me' from existence if I could. Not that I haven't said it (who hasn't?), usually in the depths of some kind of crisis where I have become convinced that the only possible way to find a better life is to destroy myself entirely and build a new woman. A better woman. A woman without my very human failings and flaws; that woman, I have thought, would be fearless and tireless. She would wake up at 5am without complaint, never sleep in her make-up, and drink more than enough water every day. Her skin would shine and her hair would not be perfect, but pretty in a windblown and genuine way. She would always know what to say. That woman, of course, does not exist - she never had a chance. The funny thing is, this desire for destruction to create a clean slate is an intrinsic part of who I am. I am notorious amongst my writerly friends as the person who writes forty thousand words and then deletes the file, pours three weeks into planning and shreds the notes. If you are a character, a new world, a young story being woven and weaved into a larger shape... I am death. I kill my darlings with fervour.

The truth is there is no 'new' me. Just an older, wiser, and hopefully milder me, and I am tired of the idea that we have to wash ourselves away entirely to improve... but what about my darlings? Well, friends and neighbours, that's what we're here to talk about.

New Year, Same Old Story?

Two years ago I wrote a fun little piece I called Holy Roller; fresh from a Terry Pratchett binge and soon to begin pitching in with the local church fair I had an itch in my brain that only absurdity could scratch. You see, whether you are religious or not (I am not), if you live in a small town in Scotland there's a high chance that the local parish church is more embedded in your life than you realize. Parish churches in these towns are made up of well-meaning (often overbearing) older women and, generally, a slightly harried Minister wondering if they bit off more than they can chew. Especially when Jeannie, Shona, and Betty join forces (transplant any suitably 'mature woman with a mean baking habit' style name here and the effect is the same).

It's a common joke that these women could manage the apocalypse with enough tea and time to plan a bake sale, but I think most people really appreciate their practicality. Like the witches in Pratchett' stories, these are people who do good, but do it quiet and small and usually they do it by dealing with the unpleasant, inglorious tasks.

I wanted to write about people like them, but I wanted it to be fantastical. I wanted to show that a little pragmatic kindness and a can-do attitude could apply almost anywhere. So I wrote a story about a Church of Scotland Minister in a world where folk creatures are real and its all just a matter of diplomacy. I wrote a poorly paced short story that had potential to be something larger... and I forgot all about it.

The only reason it has survived so long is because of Vocal. You see, Vocal's decision to prevent creators from deleting their own work was one of the reasons I signed up in the beginning. It was a tiny rebellion; I was taking control by giving up control (and saving some of my darlings in the process).

2025: A Redemption Arc, Perhaps?

Unexpectedly, I got a notification on that little story recently and it made me re-read it. I could see all of the issues with it, of course, but something about it tickled me. The idea excited me in a way no idea has for a while, and suddenly I could see the larger story peeking out from behind the cracks.

A small town minister who moonlights as a supernatural diplomat of sorts. A gentle, comedic fantasy with a dash of darkness and the smallest hint of violence here and there, maybe slapstick style, when the plot requires it. Think The Vicar of Dibley meets Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Think Last of the Summer Wine with teeth. It's all I've been able to think about. The older I get, the less important it seems to write something that will be a hit with the critics or an entry in high school reading lists. It seems all the more important to give people a little joy, a little laughter.

I tried to map it out in my mind and almost immediately sensed the issues with it; I wrestled with the idea of simply trashing it, the way I often do. You see I suffer from a delusion called 'Storium Perfectoria' (which I made up, of course) wherein I believe there is such a thing as the perfect story. I believe that with dedication, time, and the right information I can uncover it... like an archaeologist brushing dirt from the perfect burial site.

Funny thing is, it hasn't happened yet.

So, I am going to challenge the very core of my being to attempt a resurrection of this story. Not because it's perfect or because it has the potential to be perfect, but because I like it and I think there are a few people out there who might like it too. I may not be successful, friends, I have to warn you that I may come within feet of the finish line and simply burn it to ashes (which would be silly, tragic, and also very Me).

But I'm going to try, and I invite you to come along with me as I do. I intend to keep a journal of sorts, maybe on Facebook or Tumblr, or maybe here. Most likely a mix of the three; I like to scatter information to the wind like so much confetti.

I Have a Cunning Plan...

The problem with my ideas is simple; they are skittish, tender, and often complicated and I am nothing if not gung-ho. I go after my ideas like a drunk man trying to catch a chicken (gracelessly, with enthusiasm, and in constant danger of breaking something). This is not, I have decided, the best way to approach the situation.

I will treat this one like a nervous horse and approach it slowly, sidling up with food in hand in the desperate hope I won't get kicked to a pulp. I'm not going to saddle it up just yet.

A dear friend of mine has the insane habit of simply writing scenes and throwing them all in a folder to be pieced together later like a giant jigsaw. I think I'll hop on the bandwagon and try that, but in all honesty I may end up white-knuckling my way through it all chronologically as usual. I can see the outline of the project, like a silhouette in a dark room... all I need to do is find the right kind of light to make it clear.

So here's to 2025 - may it be quietly successful, generally peaceful, and a little less of a bastard than its predecessor. May your projects bear fruit and your sleep be unbroken. I wish you all the luck in the world, and ask only that if you see me talking about deleting this fledgling story... hit me with something heavy until the mania passes.

Deal?